Hello everyone, my name is Jordan the Hutt and I'm here with my first ever solo story! It is, as you can tell, a Hunger Games story; I suppose I should tell you a bit about it, primarily my character: I'm basing this quite a bit off of the movies, because I have never read the books (unfortunately)—thought I should clear that up right away. Next, I want to tell you that I am inserting quite a bit—primarily about the main character Hadrian's lineage. I'll post a sort-of prologue telling about it later (probably. I'm pretty unpredictable), but for now, I'll tell you this: before Panem, after America, seven (well, eight, but we don't talk about the eighth) families settled in the mountains near the place that would become Panem. They brought riches out of the mountains and accumulated great wealth, and were quite friendly with the Districts before the Rebellion; after the Rebellion, they were attacked one-by-one by the Capitol and defeated, although they nearly decimated the Capitol's armies. Most of them settled throughout the Districts (those that escaped, of course), with Hadrian's settling in District 12. They are warriors, all of them, and train their children—so Hadrian's gonna be pretty badass. Like I said, this is my first ever solo story, so there might be a few errors, characters may be OOC, but just bear with me, please. ALSO, I think that you can figure out—but I suppose I should say it anyway—this story has MANY references to The Hobbit in it… well, actually there's constant references.

The gentle dancing of the leaves as they flutter in the breeze is music to my ears. I sit in silence and listen to the symphony of the outdoors, closing my eyes and smiling slightly at the still peace of the wilderness. The crickets and birds sing and I begin to loosen my grip on the worn wooden bow in my hands, letting the arrow slide from the bowstring, causing it to fall and hit the grass with a small crunch that sounds much louder than it should…

Half a moment, arrows are not that loud… ah, yes! My dinner has arrived.

A small deer, a doe, to be exact, with brown fur and a white tail and underside, with several white spots dotted across the top of her body, has stepped into a clearing nearby. "Foolish animal," I whisper, a slight smirk stretching across my face (try saying that three times fast!). I slide the arrow back into the bow quietly, and in one fluid movement, I draw the bowstring taut and the arrow sings through the air like a streak of light, spiraling into the doe's side like a screw. Blood seeps from its side, though it's not dead. It rears up on its hind legs like a tiny horse and dashes off to the right; it continues for several feet before being felled by an arrow from an unseen archer.

"Dammit Catnip!" I cry out, my voice breaking the silence that has once more settled over the forest after the commotion with the deer. The constant noises are continued when my best friend, Katniss Everdeen, steps out from behind a tree. With her long, silky black hair and grey eyes, we could almost be related.

But we're not.

"Come now, is that any way to talk to your best friend?" she asks with her trademark smirk, walking toward me. She's wearing a simple red shirt and a pair of black pants and her hair is not tied down as it usually is, helping to accent her grey eyes. I look at her with a glare of mock anger, then she laughs a little and says, "Really, Thorin, you should see the look on your face right now."

I wink at her; "You know, the way you're staring so intently at my face, I'd almost guess that you wanted to kiss me." I say with a smirk, striking a pose.

…Oh! Where are my manners, how could I forget? My name is Hadrian Marlowe—affectionately known as Thorin, due to my apparent family characteristic of (as time goes on, of course) looking like the character from the beloved story The Hobbit—a quite well-kept edition of which also happens to be a closely-guarded family treasure, even through the probably hundreds of years we've had it.

"Who'd want to kiss something like that?" Katniss mocks, making a retching noise. Then she laughs, a soft laugh that sounds like chiming bells; one of the many things that has drawn me to her… oh, did I say that out loud? …Erm, mentally?

Forget about that… seriously. If you value your lives, you will forget that I mentioned anything of the sort… not kidding.

"Jeez, Thorin," my other best friend, a tall guy who shares a similar look with Katniss and I named Gale, says as he steps out from behind a bush that is a couple meters away from me; "I thought you said that you'd never lose a kill to a girl."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Katniss asks, mock glaring at me and putting her hands on her hips. Gods, she's so… no, I'm not gonna give you anymore blackmail material!

Anyway, in reply to her question I say, "It means that I can outkill you any day."

"Is that so?" Katniss replies with a wry smirk—my God, that is so… stop it! If I tell you how we met, will you not blackmail me?

(Begin Flashback)

The leaves fell gracefully around Gale and I as we stepped through the forest, quietly and carefully. We had lost our fathers earlier that month in a mine explosion, and now we were the primary caretakers of our family (although my older brothers were a great help, because they were adventurers and treasure hunters, often bringing home many artifacts and items worth quite a bit, albeit not often between returns). Gale was fourteen and I was twelve, almost thirteen, and he and I had mere snares to catch our prey—not the bows that came with Katniss's addition to our group, though we did have a few shoddy wooden javelins that my father taught me to make before his death.

"C'mon, Gale, let's go check the snares," I said as I lugged a nicely-sized boar that I took down with a well-placed javelin to the neck.

"Alright, Thorin, alright," Gale said tiredly as we moved toward one of his snares, which was placed between two trees. Sure enough, three rabbits hang by it. And also…

"Hey, is that… someone?" Gale asked me, pointing to a form huddled by the rabbits.

"Yeah… I think so. Do you think they're stealing the rabbits?" I asked quietly.

"Hey!" he yelled, startling the form. "Stealing's illegal, you know."

"I wasn't stealing," the form replied after getting over the shock. "Just admiring the work put into the snares." It was a female's voice.

Gale and I walked toward the person, and came to find that it was, as previously stated, a girl. Her appearance was very similar to Gale and I's; she had long, black hair and olive skin, with steely grey eyes. However, she eyed the boar hungrily as I sat it down, and she had the typical look of a starving person: sunken face, very skinny, and an emptiness in her eyes.

I recognized her at once: Katniss Everdeen. Her father had been killed in the same explosion that took our fathers, and I had seen her at the memorial ceremony (I think that's what it was called) at the Justice Building, where the mayor had handed us medals.

But they were worth nothing.

She stood proudly in the sun, not crying whatsoever. As the oldest, she was given a medal in honour of her father; same to Gale, and, though I wasn't the oldest, I was the oldest of my siblings that was present, so I, by default, was given it.

But now, she crouched in the leaves, a bow in hand, and a quiver of arrows on her back, looking like a walking corpse. "Could I see that?" I asked, pointing to her bow.

She studied me carefully, but after a minute, she relented. "Sure," she said with a sigh; "just remember that stealing is illegal."

Gale grinned a little at me. "Seems like she has a similar sense of humour." He said.

"What, dry?" I said softly, examining the wooden composite bow. I admired the curve of the elastic limbs and the tenseness of the bowstring; I brought it up and drew back the string, remembering the sorts of combat training that was reinforced in my family since we settled in our Homeland, which we had named The Lonely Mountain—yes, like the one from The Hobbit. I'll explain it all later. "This is some fine craftsmanship. Who made it?"

"My dad did," she said dryly, swiping the bow back. "I let you see my bow. Can I see your spear?"

"It's a javelin, thank you very much," I responded, narrowing my eyes. "But… I guess."

I handed her my javelin, and she took it gingerly; she balanced the shaft in her hands, and said, "This is so smooth… and light. Almost like an arrow."

"That's the point of a javelin. It's best used for throwing—gains momentum as it flies," I explained, "and pierces the prey about as much as a sword."

(End flashback)

From that day we had joined forces as hunters, and later friends. She taught us how to use bows (well, more of Gale, seeing as my family's combat training covered bows)—Gale and I taught her about snares, and I instructed her in the javelin.

And none of our families ever went hungry.

And now, we are returning to our homes, to prepare for the annual Reaping. The story behind the Reaping is a long one—long ago, after the end of a country named America, and after my family settled the Lonely Mountain, the country of Panem, where we live, came into existence. It had a shining Capitol that reigned over thirteen outlying Districts. The Districts were, with the exceptions of 1, 2, and 4, starving and poor, while the Capitol had plenty of food and no shortness of riches.

One day, the Districts finally had enough and rose up against the Capitol in a rebellion that shaped the course of history even now, seventy-four years since; my family and the six other major families that settled in the mountains supported the Districts openly, even sending our own troops—though they used swords, axes, and other weapons—not guns. However… the Capitol crushed the rebellion and declared war on us—which seemed madness, seeing as we had hundreds of thousands in our ranks, not even combined (VERY large families, all related in some form or other, and no, no inbreeding whatsoever), but they still defeated us. They started with our relatives in their mountain kingdom of Moria, who made a brilliant final stand and almost won, with the help of our cousins in the aptly named Blue Mountains, who swept in and attacked the Capitol's forces from behind.

But the Capitol had hovercrafts, and even about a million well-trained Mountain warriors were unable to bring them down; all were slain.

Then they systematically took out the rest, finishing with Erebor. They charged in like a dragon, fast and powerful, leaving pure destruction in their wake. They broke through our gates with a practiced ease that could only be gained by doing that to others, but were met with walls upon walls of sharpened, forged steel; many were slaughtered upon mere entry.

Out of all the mountain kingdoms, we put up the best fight—nearly decimating their army. But eventually, my great-grandfather Dain, the chief of Erebor, led a final charge in the night… and the Capitol had been waiting for that. As soon as they heard the battle cry, they opened fire and tore through the ranks of our men, killing Dain and most of the troops. Most of our women, children and an unknown amount of men fled to the Districts, seeking aid…

…But no help came from the Districts. Not that day… nor any day since.

"Bye, Thorin, bye, Gale," Katniss says as she breaks off to go into her home. "Meet up in the meadow after the Reapings?"

"You bet," Gale says. "May the odds be ever in your favour," he mocks.

"Bye, Catnip." I say, blowing a kiss to her.

She smiles briefly and then she's gone, leaving Gale and I to finish the walk. We make small talk as we usually do—neither of us are exactly talkers. We reach his house, which is almost a carbon-copy of Katniss's: one story and run-down, made of sun-baked brick with a few windows. "I'll see you later, Thorin," Gale says, raising his hand for a high-five. I clap my hand to his and he pulls me in for a hug.

"Later, brother," I say with a smile. I continue walking toward the mountain that the District's coal mine is built into; nowhere near the size of Erebor, yet a nice substitute—the mine barely cuts into it whatsoever. My family lives in the halls that were carved long ago into the mountain, which we call Ered Luin, after some of our trading relatives had set up in District 12. It's comfy and warm, though according to some of the elders of my family, nowhere near as great as Erebor.

I walk up the path that goes over the mine entrance, a sturdy path made of cobblestone, worn through the years. As I step up to the top of the path, I flip a switch and the stone face of the mountain slides apart for me to enter—an ingenious defense created by my grandfather and his brothers about sixty years ago—and I am overcome by a feeling of happiness; I am home.

"Welcome back, my son," says my mother as she steps forward and engulfs me in a hug.

I suppose I should tell you about myself now; I am sixteen—seventeen in about seven days—and I have very long black hair that goes down past my shoulder blades. A fine coating of black stubble that I have never once shaven—"a warrior's pride is his beard" is a major family motto—covers my face, and my piercing grey eyes shine like daggers in torchlight (or so I have been told—and yes, we use torches for light). I am about six feet tall, very tall for my family (most of us have a tendency to be very short) and typically wear a grey shirt and pants, with a fur vest over it for warmth. A pair of sturdy black leather boots are worn to provide protection to my feet, and typically I conceal a knife in each boot, and carry a small silver flute—which I can also use as a club if need be.

I smile at my mother. "I am glad to be home, mother; though I can't say my hunting went well."

My mother looks a lot like me—though more woman-like, with softer features and less facial hair. She smiles. "Don't worry. You can always go back after the Reaping." I nod, and she adds, "Get dressed. You are the last representative of our family, you must look nicely in the event that you must fight." She kisses my forehead and leaves me.

I go to my room and contemplate what to wear to the Reaping. I've always considered what I always wear nice, especially with the fur vest, so I just pull it a little tighter and immediately head out for the square. I walk through block after block of rundown houses and ruined fences, until we get into the centre of the District: a slightly less dreary place, especially now that the midday sun is shining down on us. A large crowd of teens, mostly dressed in grey clothes as well, is gathered there. A stage is set up with multiple television screens and lights, with an army of white-clothed Peacekeepers holding guns. A few lines are formed in front of a series of tables, where more white-clothed Peacekeepers sit with devices for pricking fingers and scanning blood, with books to place the blood samples in.

"Thorin!" I hear a voice call. It's Katniss's little sister, Prim—who ironically looks nothing like Katniss, with blonde hair and blue eyes, as well as fair skin. She wears a light blue blouse and pants, and she is waving to me. She is twelve years old, so this is her first Reaping year.

She and her sister stand at the back of a line, so I join them. "Tuck your tail in, little duck," I say, smoothing out the back of her blouse and earning a giggle from her. Katniss mock-glares at me and says, "That's MY line!" but she laughs all the same.

"I see you've changed up your wardrobe a bit," she mocks, tugging at my vest. "I see you've put on a new vest… and shaved, apparently." She adds sarcastically.

Prim looks shocked. "Did you really shave?!" she cries in disbelief, though she starts giggling when I begin to stroke my stubble.

"A warrior's beard is his pride. My beard may not be fully grown, yet my facial hair shall dominate any opposition. I am Hadrian son of Gloin; fear me!" I bellow, pounding my chest.

Prim giggles a little more, despite the obvious jitters from her first Reaping, and hugs me. "How could I fear such a big teddy bear?"

"…Dang it, Prim, you made me smile. I'm supposed to be the most feared warrior in the land; I'm the only scion left to fight for Erebor in the Hunger Games! Anyone to face me would die!"

Prim giggles and I continue doing things like that until it's her turn. "Don't worry, Prim, you'll be fine," I reassure her with a smile. She steps nervously to the Peacekeeper.

"Thorin, Gale and I will come and find you after the Reapings. Just join the other twelve-year-olds and stay there." Katniss says, hugging her sister tightly. The little blonde girl runs off, her twin ponytails bouncing. Katniss steps up to the Peacekeeper and holds out her hand, and has her finger pricked. "See you later, Thorin," she whispers to me, patting my shoulder.

I smile to her and step proudly up to the Peacekeeper. Without them needing to ask, I stick out my hand; they prick my finger and press it to the book page, and read the device. As per usual, I step into a crowd with the other sixteen-year-olds, including Katniss. Per usual, the mayor walks up to a podium to give some boring speech about Panem that—of course—mentions nothing about Erebor or any of the mountains. Then, the escort for the District 12 tributes, Effie Trinket, pretty much struts up to the podium, sporting an incredibly outrageous pink wig, piled high with huge curls.

She wears a red coat with various odd baubles covering it, and a black skirt and heels. Her pale skin looks almost pink with all the makeup applied, and she speaks in an incredibly annoying voice. "Welcome, everyone! Time to decide which courageous young man and woman shall represent your District in the Seventy-forth Annual Hunger Games!" …Just shut up already, none of us cares. We know that District 12 is gonna lose. As usual.

"Well, ladies first, I suppose!" she trills into the microphone. She walks over to a glass bowl that is filled with names. She sticks her gloved hand in and makes a swirling motion as she finally plucks a name out. She pulls the tab out and clears her throat, before saying, "Primrose Everdeen!"

Shit. No… no, it can't be… this is her first Reaping, that's not possible… "Those fucks…" I growl out. I know what Katniss is going to do now. As soon as Prim starts walking up to the stage, she pushes her way through the crowd and yells, "I volunteer!" she practically screams it, then calms down and says, "I volunteer as tribute."

I can't let Katniss go in alone… I have to do this. My family can easily survive without me, and Gale's an apt enough hunter to feed his family and Prim and Katniss's mom…

I clench my fists tightly and force a swallow, glaring daggers at the ground. Part of me wants to pull the knives from my boots and murder the Peacekeepers, but let's face it—even the natural warriors of Erebor couldn't fight them all, let alone an almost-natural warrior. "What's your name, dear?" Effie Trinket asks Katniss, pulling her up to the microphone.

"Katniss Everdeen." She chokes out, barely audible.

"Everdeen? I'll bet that she was your sister, eh?" Trinket says. Katniss merely nods. "Well, I'm sure you'll make her proud," she says in a not at all sincere tone; she moves over to a bowl opposite the girls'. "Now for the boys!" she cries.

Doesn't matter. I'm going anyway. She does the same circular motion before plucking out a name. She reads: "Peeta Mellark!"

Nope. "I volunteer." I call, pushing my way through the crowd.

"Two volunteers? What a surprise!" Effie calls with an excited trill.

"Get your damn hands off me," I growl, shrugging off the Peacekeepers' grip as they begin to escort me up to the stage. They glare at me slightly, but allow me to go on.

"What's your name?"

"I am Hadrian Marlowe, and I will thank you not to touch me," I add with a pointed glare, jerking my arm out of her grip.

"Mm, touchy, I see." She says with an amused smirk. Katniss looks at me like, "What the hell?!" I just shake my head at her and mouth, "We'll talk later."

"Here you are, District 12! Here are your tributes!"

Instead of the cheers and applause our escort expects, as Katniss steps forward, the people of District 12 press their middle, index and pointer fingers to their lips and hold them toward her. It's a sign of goodbye.

Effie pulls me forward to end the awkwardness, and instead of the action, my family begins to sing.

The king beneath the mountains,

The king of carven stone,

The lord of silver fountains

Shall come into his own.

I know this song. My mother used to sing this to me all the time as a child… soon the entirety of the District joins them.

His crown shall be upholden,

His harp shall be restrung,

His halls shall echo golden

To songs of yore re-sung

They are singing to me… they have faith in me, but not in Katniss? The hell is this?! …Besides, my brother Thrain is first in line to be King… that is if we had a kingdom to rule, and he returns from this latest journey.

"Come with me now, dears," Effie Trinket says, grabbing Katniss and I by the arms and pretty much dragging us toward a car. She gets in, then two Peacekeepers force us in and we are driven to the Justice Building. It stands tall and forbidding, with a dark wooden exterior and high, dark windows. Little lights blink in the two topmost windows, giving the impression of eyes, and the double doors stand wide open like the gaping maw of a giant beast.

Or a dragon.

You're loving my little Hobbit references, aren't you?

Effie sits chatting the whole ride, mostly about the Capitol and asking questions about us—which I promptly do not answer. Katniss and I do not speak. She does not look at me.

Thank you for reading the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, please leave a review, possibly favourite and follow, because it gives me inspiration to keep writing it! No hates/flames will be accepted, so just good reviews or constructive criticism! I hope you have an excellent day/night, whatever it is!

~Jordan

P.S.:

If any of you want to know about Master of the Rangers or Fire Emblem: Bond of Brothers ( a co-op on Never An Honest Word's page ), I don't have a definite date, but expect some new chapters soon! Yes, even Fire Emblem is still going-you've got to realize how hard it is to coordinate these, even for Fire Emblem ( we all live in the same house! It shouldn't be this hard, but it is! ). A chapter for FE is about 89% done and for Rangers... about 61%.